LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

shelfless <r 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



THE PRAYER CURE IN 
THE PINES 



OTHER VERSES 



CLARENCE HENRY PEARSON 



BOSTON : 

THE WRITER PUBLISHING COMPANY 

282 Washington Street 

1893 



iho y 



Copyright, 1893, 
By CLARENCE H. PEARSON. 



All Rights Reserved. 






PREFACE. 



AMERICAN lit. presents no more unique or picturesque 
characters than the woodsmen of the northern pineries. 
Rough in speech and manner, equally ready for a fight or a 
frolic, reckless even to lawlessness, they are, nevertheless, as a 
rule, hearty, whole-souled fellows, loyal in their friendships, and 
possessed of brave and generous impulses. A residence of 
several years in northern Michigan brought me in frequent con- 
tact with these sturdy knights of the axe and the peevy, as well 
as with the rugged pioneer farmers of that country, whose efforts 
are fast converting dreary deserts of blackened stumps into fair 
and fertile fields. I leave those who are familiar with the 
- among which these verses were written to judge whether 
I have succeeded in imparting to them any flavor of life among 
the pines. 

Sbquachbb, Ik\'. , September, 



CONTENTS. 



AMONG THE PIN] S. 

I'm- I'r a\ er ( 'i re in iii ir Pines 

\\ HEN THE I [OUNDS GlVE ToNGUl 

I'll EOL( IGY I \ < ' VMP . 

I i'h King 

Poker Jim's Deposition 

Whar i in- Corn Ji ice Fd 

Doi .... 

The Ruinous Rat 

p( 'ii i h's in ' ' ami' 

l\ VARK »l S \l<>< >!)S. 
l ' n< i i Jack 
Life's Game 
'In i Old \\ m i hi \ i\\ 
Encouragement . 



9 
M 
18 



34 
39 

43 
5° 

56 
63 
6S 
67 



CONTENTS. 



Pensee 








. 69 


The Truant .... 








71 


A Morning Shower . 








73 


Llorenta 








74 


Life 








75 


A Willing Victim 








77 


Vale 








• 78 


My Second Love 








80 


When the Leaves Turn Red . 








82 


Not Quite So Bad 








85 


The Fire Burns Low 








87 


Love's Victory .... 








89 


Endless Punishment 








9' 


The Smoker's Farewell . 








93 


On Winnisquam . 








96 


False Hopes .... 








98 


Sence Huldy Jumped Her Job 








100 


The Stolen Kiss . . . . 








i°3 


My Autograph 








>°5 


Two Pictures 








107 


Beth 








108 



AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
TO MY WIFE. 



THE PRAYER CURE IN 
THE PINES. 



THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

A kind of a purty boy was Hank : 
A girlish face, with an honest, frank, 

Conficlin' light in his cl'ar blue eyes, 

Thet looked with a sort of half surprise 
At the things they seen in Stiggins camp, 
An' sunthin', somehow, that seemed to stamp 

Him diff'runt from us, an' give him just 

A tritlin' flavor of upper crust. 



10 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

Not nothin' put on, but nat'ral — see ? 

Friendly and social, but not too free ; 

A gentleman born was young Hank Shaw, 
An' he did n't drink, nor did n't chaw ; 

An' he did n't cuss, — thet is, not much, — 

An' w'en he did, he did it in such 

An awk'ard way you c'd tell for sure 
He was more or less of an amachure. 



Never let on whar his home hed been, 

Never said nothin' about his kin ; 

Worked right along with the rest of us, 
An' held his own with the best of us, 

Till Big-Foot Zekel, who used to laff 

At his genteel manners, quit his chaff, 

An' give out the statement, cold an' chill, 
He'd lick the duffer thet used Hank ill. 



THE PKAYE A' CURE /X THE PINES. 

Now, the boy was young, — jest turned sixteen, - 
An' the work was hard an' the chuck was mean ; 
But he toughed it out, through cold an' damp, 
Till jest as Stiggins was breakin' camp, 
Then tuk with fever so mighty bad 
He could n't be moved to town, poor lad ; 
So me an' Zekel an' Long Dan Drew 
Stayed back to 'tend him an' see him through. 



One day, 'twas Sunday, he'd got so weak 
He could n't move an' he could n't speak, 
But lay on his bunk so still an white 
We 'lowed thet he could n't last till night. 
Along in the mornin', say near ten, 
We hearn the jangle of bells, an' then 

A woman dashed through the shanty door 
An' knelt by Hank on the rough board fioor. 



12 THE PR A YEN CURE IN THE PINES. 

Her face was lit with a look of joy, 

As she cried, " Thank God, I've found my boy ! " 
But he did n't know her ; and then she prayed, 
The pra'rfullest pra'r I ever hearn made ! 

I sorter reckon the angel bands, 

As she begged Hank's life at. the good Lord's hands, 
Must ha' stopped to listen ; 'twas rather more 
Than I c'd stan', — I broke for the door. 



The others follered. " Say, lads," says Dan, 
" Do you think pra'rs ever cured a man ? " 

" Dunno," says Zeke ; " but I know ef I 

Was a-settin' up thar on the Throne on High 
A runnin' this yar concern, an' she 
Come pleadin' an' prayin' thet way to me, 

I'd cure thet kid ef it bust the plan 

Of the hull durned universe ! " " Shake," says Dan. 



THE PRAYER CURE IX THE PINES. 13 

An' jest three weeks from thet very day, 

Hank an' his mother rode away 

Down the loggin' trail. Now, some may doubt 
An' argy 'twas nussin' pulled him out, 

An' thet pra'rs don't go : but as for me, 

I was thar an' know what I hearn an' see, 

An' I'm sure thet clay attheThrone of Grace 
A mother's pra'r was good for its face. 



14 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 



WHEN THE HOUNDS GIVE TONGUE. 

I remember, when a youngster, how I'd lay down with 

my gun, 
An' watch upon a runway jest afore the set of sun ; 
An' I mind me how the quivers kinder cantered down 

my back, 
When the purps would yell to tell me they bad struck 

a likely track ; 
An' tho' I'm bent an' grizzled now, I b'lieve my heart 

is young, 
Fer it thrills me jest like liquor 

When the 

Hounds 

Give 

Tongue. 



WHEN THE HOUNDS GIVE TO X CUE. 15 

I love to hear the medder lark tune up at peep o' day, 
An it kinder stirs my blood, like, when a band begins 

to plav : 
An' it makes me soft an' dreamy when I hear an 

organ roll. 
An' good ol' fashioned singin' sorter braces up my 

soul ; 
Rut thar's suthin' double discounts ary song 'twas 

ever sung. 
An' thet's the hunter's chorus — 

When the 

Hounds 

Give 

Tongue. 

You may talk about yer yachtin', an' yer coachin', an' 
all those, 
base ball, an' yer tennis, — they're all well enough, 
I s'pose; 



1 6 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

But fer sport thet's fit fer grown folks, jest gimme my 

ol' gun, 
An' put me on some likely spot where deer is apt to 

run, 
An', tho' the gates of Heaven above to let me thro' 

was swung, 
I'd hate to jump my runway 

When the 

Hounds 

Give 

Tongue. 

Sometimes when folks comes down to die, they 'low 

they see strange things, 
An' hear the twang of heavenly harps, an' swish of 

angels' wings. 
I. hope thet when my jig is up, an' I lay clown to die. 
It jest'll chance thet some one's pack is roamin' 

summas nigh ; 



WHEN THE HOUNDS GIVE TONGUE. 17 

An' may they yell like all possessed — jest fit to bust 

a lung, 
\n I'll ford the River Jordan 

When the 

Hounds 

Give 

Tongue. 



777E PRAYE7i CURE 7N THE P7NES. 



THEOLOGY IN CAMP. 

I was on the drive in 'eighty, 

Workin' under Silver Jack, 
Which the same has ben in Jackson, 

Doin' time for some years back ; 
An' there was a chap amongst us 

By the name of Robert Waite, 
Kinder cute, and smart, and tonguey, 

Guess he was a graduate. 

He could talk on ary subject. 
From the Bible down to Hoyle ; 

An' his words flowed out so easy, — 
[est as smooth an' slick as oil. 



THEOLOGY IN CAMP. 19 

He was what they call a skeptic, 

An' he loved to set an' weave 
Hifalutin words together, 

Tellin' what he did n't b'lieve. 

One day, while we all was waitin' 

For a flood, we set around, 
Smokin' niggerhead tobacker, 

An' a-hearin' Bob expound. 
Hell, he said, was all a humbug, 

An' he showed as clear as dav 
Thet the Bible was a fable, 

An' we 'lowed it looked that way. 

Meracles," says he, " an' sech like 

Is too rank for me to stan' ; 
As for Him they call the Saviour, 

He was jest a common man." 



THE PRAYER CURE IX THE T/.YES. 

" You're a liar ! " some one shouted ; 
'■ An' you've got to take it back." 
An' then everybody started — 
'Twas the voice of Silver Jack ! 

An' he cracked his fists together, 

An' he shucked his coat, and cried, 
" It was in thet thar religion 

Thet my mother lived an' died ; 
An', although I have n't alius 

Used the Lord exactly white, 
When I hear a chump abuse him, 

He must eat his words or fight." 

Now, this Bob, he warn't no coward. 
So he answers bold and free, 
" Stack yer duds and cut yer capers. 
For there ain't no flies on me." 



Theology tn camp. 

An' they fit for forty minutes, 

An' the lads would whoop and cheer 

When Jack put mournin' on an eye, 
Or Bobby split an ear. 

But at last Jack got him under, 

An' he slugged him onct or twict, 
An' Bob straightway acknowledged 

The divinity of Christ ; 
But Jack kep' reasonin' with him, 

Till the poor cuss gin a yell, 
An' allowed he'd ben mistaken 

In his views concernin' hell. 

Then the fierce discussion ended, 
An' they got up from the ground, 

An' some one fetched a bottle out 
An' kindly passed it 'round; 



22 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

An' we drank to Jack's religion 
In a solemn sorter way, 

An' the spread of infidelity 

Was checked in camp thet day. 



///> A'/VG. 23 



JED KING. 

Do I know Jerry King? Well, I reckon ! 

Or 1 did when the lad was alive ; 
But he got his dome bust with a peevy 

While workin' last spring on the drive. 
I was in thet same shindy myself, sir, 

Which accounts for the fact thet I'm lame 
But we boys, we was all pretty lushy, 

So there really wan't no one to blame. 

Was he much in the habit of drinkin' ? 

Yes, at last; but for more than a year 
Of the time when we first worked together 

He would n't tech whiskey nor beer. 



24 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

The lads, though they all liked the youngster, 
Made sport of his teetotal craze ; 

But they never could weaken or faze him, 
For Jed he was sot in his ways. 

Me and him got to be like two brothers. 

And I knowed why he salted his scads, 
And always was prudent and savin', 

And never drunk budge with the lads; 
For he'd told me of plans for the future, 

And the hopes and the fears of his life, 
And the gal down in Maine by the ocean 

Who hed promised thet she'd be his wife. 

And he liked to be talkin' about her 
When we two was together alone, 

And the home he intended to build her 
When the time come thet she was his own. 



JED KIA G. 25 

Her folks, so lie said, was agin him. 
But the gal would be loyal and true 

While the pine trees was green in the forest, 
And the skies up above 'em was blue. 

( )ne night I was goin' to the village, 

And along down the trail I met Jed ; 
In his hand was a bit of a letter, 
And his face was like thet of the dead. 
•• Wot is wrong, pard ? " I cried; the boy started. 

Then drawed hisself up, proud an' tall. 
" Why, the woman I worshipped," he answered, 
" Hes ruined my life — thet is all." 

I'm a middlin' tough sort of a rooster, 
For the drive is a mighty hard school, 

But I've picked up some stray chunks of wisdom, 
And I ain't wot you might call a fool ; 



26 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

I know when our friends is took from us, 
Our tears soothe the grief thet we feel ; 

But when one we have loved proves a traitor, 
It's a wound thet is harder to heal. 

But the lad never weakened nor whimpered ; 

No, stranger, thet was n't his style ; 
But I knowed thet the leech of his trouble 

Was drainin' his heart all the while. 
He would smile with his lips when his eyes, sir, 

Hed the look of a death-stricken deer ; 
And his laugh, when he shouted the loudest, 

Hed a ring thet I shuddered to hear. 

And he never wan't no ways the same, sir, 
'Till the last time I saw him alive ; 

And he soon got to gamblin' and drinkin', 
Like the wildest galoot on the drive. 



JED KING. 

We was all of us pretty hard tickets, 
And blowed in the most thet we earned 

Hut Jed headed straight for the devil, 
And, somehow, he could n't be turned. 

One day we hung up on the Cedar, 

And the boss got on one of his sprees, 
And skipped for the neighborin' village. 

And leaves us to do wot we please. 
Jed sent for two gallons of whiskey, 

An' a couple of bottles o' gin. 
An' every son of his mother 

Got full clean up to his chin. 

You kin bet 'twas a wild oP " come-all-ye " 
Thet we had in the camp thet night ; 

And wot hed begun in a frolic 
Wound up in a thunderin' fight ; 



28 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE P1XES. 

And Jed, he got downed in the scrimmage, 

Nobody don't know by who, 
But we found him a stiff by the cook camp, 

With his head busted plum into two. 

We boys — we was sickened with sorrow, 

As we looked on thet poor mangled face, 
An' many's the eye as got leaky, 

An' there wan't no sound heerd 'round the place; 
For the lad was the pet of the camp, sir. 

Though he drank an' raised hell and all that, 
You kin bet Jerry King was a white man, 

From his toes to the crown of his hat. 

Hev I s'picioned who murdered the youngster? 

I hev, you can gamble yer life : 
'Twas the woman, false-hearted an' fickle, 

As hed promised thet she'd be his wife. 



JED KING. 29 

And thet, sir, 's the end of my story. 

'Taint prettily told, but it's true. 
Ya-as, talkin' does make a chap thirsty ; 

Thank ye, stranger, — don't keer if J do. 



30 THE TA'AVEA' CUKE IN THE TINES. 



POKER JIM'S DEPOSITION. 

James Peters, alias " Poker Jim," 

Upon his oath deposes : 
" I'm stoppin' now at Price's place, 

An' me an' ' Hog-back ' Moses 
An' Jack St. Charles was playin' draw, — 

Last Saturday, I think, sir, — 
When ' Baldy ' Koon an' ' Big Jack ' Burke 

Dropped in to get a drink, sir. 

" The deal was mine : Jack got three queens, 
An' Mose, he got three jacks ; 
An' I — thet's what I'm doin', sir ; 
I've sworn to tell the facks. 



POKER JIMS DEPOSITION. 31 

Irrelly — which ? Incompetent ? 

Now, then, you chump, look here ! 
Shoot off yer mouth like thet again, 

'N' I'll bang yer in the ear. 

All right, yer Honor, I'll come off, — 

I'm a well-meanin' lad ; 
But when thet ginger-whiskered cuss 

Chips in it makes me mad. 
I'll do jest as yer Honor says ; 

But please don't let thet pup 
Say I'm 'incompetent ' again. 

Because it riles me up. 

About the row ? I'm gettin' thar, — 

I'm bound ter tell it straight. 
I caught three kings, and then I drew 

The other an' an eight. 



THE PRAYER CURE IN HIE PINES. 

We all come in ; Mose bet ten chips, 

An' then I raised him four ; 
An' Jack, he kinder smiled and says : 
' I'll go yer twenty more.' 

" We evened up our piles at thet, 

An' I remarked, ' I call,' 
When ' Baldy ' told « Big Jack ' he lied, 

An' I heard suthin' fall. 
Oh, no ! I did n't see no blow ; 

An' I jest 'low thet Koon — 
He alius was an awk'ard cuss — 

Fell over the spittoon. 

" Wal, yes, his nose was broke ; but then, 
I can't tell to a dot 
How thet come 'round, for jest then I 
Was rakin' in the pot, 



POKER JIMS DEPOSITION. 33 

I reckon. Jedge, you know how 'tis : 

When you sets in ter play, 
You has ter mind yer knittin', or — 

What's thet ? Step down ? Good day." 



34 THE PRAYER CURE EV THE PINES. 



WHAR THE CORN JUICE FLOWS. 

My son, afore you leave your home, I want ter say ter 

' you 
Thar's various kinds of pitfalls dug ter let young 

roosters through ; 
So open wide yer eyes an' ears, an' bridle well yer 

tongue, 
An' don't forgit the world is old, while you are very 

young. 
Be neat, but never dress ter kill — of all the orts thet's 

strewed 
About the airth, the poorest thing is what they call a 

dude; 



WHAR THE CORN JUICE FLOWS. 35 

An' don't be " tough " an' wear yer hat a-tilted on yer 

nose, 
An' don't be forever loafin' 

Whar the 

Corn 

Juice 

Flows. 

I know you think I don't know much ; but take a fool's 

advice. 
An' never go ter a saloon ter play at cards or dice ; 
Fer tho' I don't hold playin' cards itself as any 

crime, 
1 know these bar-room games use up a heap of cash 

an' time ; 
An' every little while, ye know, the reg'lar drinks must 

come, 
Until yer head goes swimmin' on a reservoy o' rum. 



36 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

Sometimes you'll jaw about the game an' likely come 

ter blows ; 
Fer yer don't know what'll happen 

Whar the 

Corn 

Juice 

Flows. 

They say a wise man takes his drink an' goes about 

his biz, 
Tho' I think he's a wiser one who lets it be whar 'tis. 
Still bar-room talk an' sech does more than drink ter 

spile a man, 
Fer ther mind absorbs more pizen than the stomach 

ever can ; 
So ef you will indulge, my lad, don't hang about the 

bar, 
But down yer booze an' plank yer dues, an' git away 

from thar ; 



WHAR Till CORN JUICE FLOWS. $) 

I'ti barrin' liquor men themselves, thar's no one ever 

rose 
rhet made it his headquarters 

Whar the 

Corn 

Juice 

Flows. 

I s'pose this kinder talk from me may sound a little 

odd, 
Bein' as how I've alius drank my share of forty-rod ; 
But ef I had ter live agin the years thet's past an' gone, 
I 'd undertake ter organize a temperance club of one ; 
Fer now that you are leavin' home ter steer yer own 

canoe, 
Some theories I hev alius held is sorter fallin' through. 



38 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

An' I'd feel a good deal better ef my son, afore he goes, 
Would boycott all the places 

Whar the 

Corn 

Juice 

Flows. 



nor. .-,<) 



DOC. 

Sell thet thar dog? No, stranger, 

I sh'd rather reckon not ; 
I would n't trade thet pup, sir, 

Fer a city house an' lot. 
His breed ? Well, thar, you've got me, 

But he ain't no fancy sort ; 
His pedigree, like his tail, ye see, 

Is purty middlin' short. 

Yaas, he's a fairish watch dog, 
An' mejum good with stock ; 

But he ain't got no gret talent, — 
Jest an' av'rage dog is Doc. 



40 THE PRAYER CURE IX THE PINKS. 

Six years ago come winter, 
I'd business down ter Clyde, 

An' I bought the pup an' fetched him up 
Fer our little boy thet died. 

Ye see, the kid was lonesome, 

An' natchul enough, you'll say, 
Fer our very nearest neighbor 

Was livin' ten mile away ; 
An' so I told the youngster, 

Ter kind of cherk him up. 
When I went ter town I'd rustle aroun' 

An' try an' git him a pup. 

Them days 'twas quite a journey 
From my place down ter Clyde, 

Tho' I'd the best o' hosses, 

'Twa'n't less'n a three days' ride. 



DOC. 41 

A week from the clay I started, 

When I drawed up at my door, 
I seen my Grace with a look on her face 

Thet froze my heart to the core. 

Poor Jack lay sick with fever; 

An' he had n't spoke a word 
Fer nigh two days, Grace told me, 

Nor hardly moved or stirred. 
When I went in to see him, 

He sorter rousted up. 
An' he looks at me and he says, says he, 
" Say, Dad, did you git the pup ? " 

I hurried back ter the wagon, 

An' brung in the little dog; 
The kid smiled once an' hugged him, 

An' then sunk back in a sog. 



42 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

An' I got on ter my knees, sir, 
By the side of my faithful wife, 

Ter ask the Lord ef he could n't afford 
Ter spare us thet one child's life. 

But he died in the early evenin', 

With his arms around thet pup; 
An' we — this dust a flyin" 

Jest natchully chokes me up. 
Thet thar's his little grave, sir, 

Whar ye see the white stun block 
By the big elm tree. An' thet, ye see, 

Is the reason I won't sell Doc. 



THE RUINOUS RAT. 43 



THE RUINOUS RAT. 

AN IDYL OF SAULT STE. MARIE. 

It was late in the fall 

Of the year 'eighty-two, 
While me and Ned Hall 

Run a bar at the " Soo," 
Thet we met with financial disaster 

In a manner quite queer to my view. 



Ned bought a trained rat, 

Thet he greatly did prize, 
Named Max. He was fat, 

An' of uncommon size. 
And the tricks thet thar rodent performed, sir, 

Occasioned unbounded surprise. 



44 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

The mornin' Ned brought 

The cuss into the store 
I kicked, but he thought 

Thet our sales 'ud be more, . 
With the rat for a great moral side-show, 

Doin' difficult feats by the score. 



At quarter past ten 

I sot readin' the news, 
When in come three men 

For their regular booze, 
An' poured out their pizen — an' scooted 

'Thout drinkin' or payin' their dues. 



I was flustered an' mad, 
An' I nat'rally swore ; 
Then ol' Kunnel Ladd 



THE RUINOUS RAT. 45 

An' one or two more 
Dropped in, an' fell over themselves 

In their haste to get back thro' the door. 

Then young Lawyer Guile 

Kinder meandejed in, 
\w' remarked with a smile 
Thet he'd take some Tom gin, 
An' then shrieked an' jumped out thro' the 
winder. 
Says I, "This is gettin' too thin." 

'Twould be slightin' the facts 

To say I was riled, 
For these frequent fool acts 
Hed driv me jest wild, 
An' I swore thet I'd alter the programme. 
Or somebody's face 'ud get spiled. 



46 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

Soon Sylvester Waite 

An' Andrew B. Moore 
Remarked "whiskey straight" 

As they entered the door, 
An' then slid; but I collared ol' Andy, 

An' slammed him down on to the floor. 



Then I choked him a bit. 

An' begged leave to inquire, 
Was he tuk with a fit, 

Or jest goin' to a fire? 
In short, to what might I attribute 

His evident haste to retire? 



He gasped, "Look at that!'* 

In accents of fear, 
An' I saw the blamed rat 



THE RUINOUS RAT 47 

Waltzin' 'round on his ear, 
In a way calculated to rattle 

Any gent as was well on his beer. 



An' the colors he wore 

Was a fright, for thet pale- 
Li vered painter next door, 

Alexander McHale, 
Hed striped him green, blue, an' vermilion, 

And gilded the end of his tail. 



Our patrons, ye see. 

Twigged the hand-painted rat, 
Which suggested D. T., 

An' they lit out of that 
For the doctor shop down on the corner, 

With the speed of a dog-hunted cat. 



THE rRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

Thet scoundrel, McHale, 

An' thet durned rodent Max, 

With his luminous tail, 
Hed kinder gone snacks 
To discourage the men as was willin' 
To help swell the revenue tax. 



An' thet is n't all, 

An' the rest is wuss yet ; 
For they rented a hall, 

Did thet rat-frightened set, 
An' whooped up a temp'rance revival, 

Which was rough on our traffic, you bet. 



An' then me an' Ned 

Hed a business-like chat, 
An' the varmint was fed 



THE RUINOUS RAT. 4., 

To a large brindled cat ; 
For I hold, sir, a gent as sells liquor 
Hes no use for a college-bred rat. 



50 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 



POLITICS IN CAMP. 

You ask why I'm lookin' so surly, 

An' why I am down from the camp 
At an hour in the mornin' so early? . 

Wal, I'm here to consult Doctor Gamp. 
Is thar sickness in camp ? I shud snicker ! 

The crew is all ailin' but me ; 
An' I'm down by the sunlight's fust flicker 

For the rooster as slings an M. D. 

Is it suthin' thet's ketchin'? Not now, sir; 

Tho' I gather from what the lads tell 
Thet it was at the start ; but I 'low, sir, 

Thet contagion is checked for a spell, 



POLfTfCS IN CAMP. 5 1 

Last evenin', while I was out walkin' 
Down to Mulligan's place on the flat, 

The boys got to blowin' and talkin' 
'Bout the tariff an' sech kinder chat. 

Buck Mansur, he argyed protection, 

An' Hagan, he spouted free trade, 
Till the varmints all over thet section 

Was skeered by the din thet they made. 
For Hagan allowed thet the tariff 

Was a git up to grind down the poor ; 
An' Mansur told how we would fare, if 

The tariff on lumber was lower. 

They argyed the duty on iron, 

An' jawed on the tariff on wool. 
Till Hagan said Mansur was lyin", 

An' Mansur called Hagan a fool. 



52 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

Then Hagan he flew in a passion, 
An' lent Mansur one on the beak ; 

An' then, the lads say, the discussion 
Took a personal turn, so to speak. 

For a second it seemed thet protection, 
" The bulwark of labor," was bust ; 
But Mansur he got in the next one. 

An' free trade was laid in the dust. 
Then they clinched, — which was whar Hagan 
missed it. 

For he quickly went down underneath ; 
But the cuss kinder wriggled an' twisted 

Till he got Mansur's ear in his teeth. 

Poker Jimmy saw Mansur's ear bleedin", 
Which caused him to rave an' to swear, 

An' he reached out as though he was needin" 
A handful of Hagan's back hair ; 



POLITICS /.\ CAMP 53 

This rousted up Terrence McKeevy; 
" Lave the hair of him be ! " shouted Ted ; 
An' he lambasted Jim with a peevy, 
Just to emphasize what he hed said. 

Then turned for a good crack at Mansur, 

An' chanced to bark Bully Burke's shin ; 
Burke gathered him up by his pants, sir, 

An' throwed his heels over his chin ; 
An' then, pard, I hev a suspicion 

They hed lively times, for thet camp 
Looks like the back yard of perdition. 

An' the boys is all callin' for Gamp. 

Bad cases? W-a-1, no; but Hank Keller 
Has lost a good share of his thumb, 

An' I doubt some ef Poker Jim's smeller 
Will ever get back into plumb. 



54 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

Hagan's jaw, too, is ruther lop-sided, 
An' Mansur's head summat puffed out, 

An' Scudder's ear, whar he collided 
With an axe-helve, is all spread about. 

When men works for me, sir, I'm willin' 

They shall hev their fun all the year 'round, 
But I don't like the boys to go spillin' 

Each other all over the ground. 
Thar's a new rule in my camp this mornin' 

(Though I b'lieve in free speech from way back), 
The man thet yips "tariff " has warnin' 

Thet he's got to fight me, — Silver Jack ! 



IN VARIOUS MOODS. 



Because the nightingale, Crown Prince of Song, 
In Melody's sweet realm hath not a peer, 

Must other birds be dumb the whole year long, 
That naught but perfect notes may greet the ear I 

Not so — some lowly singer of the wood 

With song less grand, a faint and faulty strain, 

May bring some troubled heart a happier mood, 
Or wake some buried joy to life again. 



56 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 



UNCLE JACK. 

Remember Jack Hemingway ? dear old Jack ? 
I should say I did ! How the name brings back 
The days when the skies took a deeper blue, 
And the autumn sunset a ruddier hue ; 
When the fields of June wore a brighter green, 
And the moonlight shone with a softer sheen ! 
How the seasons have sped since you and I, 
Barefoot urchins about knee-high, 
Watched for the old man coming down 
From his hillside farm on his way to town, 
In the checkered homespun he used to wear, 
With his square box-wagon and buckskin mare, 
That livened her somewhat moderate gait 
At the old man's frequent " Git along, Kate, — 
Heddup ! " 



IX CLE JACK 57 

Every day old Jack came down 
W i tli garden-truck for the folks in town ; 
\nd often he brought a toothsome store 
( )f farm-life dainties for half a score 
( )f lads like us, who had won a part 
( >f the kind old farmer's three-ton heart — 
Apple, and cherry, and plum, and nut, 
Maple sugar, and Lord knows what ; 
But better than all his gifts by half 
Were his kindly greeting and wholesome laugh. 
Ball and marbles were laid aside, 
Venturesome feats were left untried, 
Leap-frog and shinny could always wait, 
When we heard the old man's " Git along, Kate, — 
Heddup!" 

Close, some called him, who did not know 
The wealth of kindness that lay below 



58 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

His wrinkled visage and big, gray eyes, 

His uncouth manners and homespun guise. 

Close, old playmate ! he was, indeed : 

Close to the heels of a neighbor's need, 

Close to Nature and Nature's God, 

Close to the path the Master trod. 

True, whenever he earned a cent 

He was rather particular how 'twas spent ; 

True, he never contributed much 

To the Cannibal Island Fund and such ; 

But he who was likely to run aground 

On the shoals of poverty often found 

A ready helper in Uncle Jack 

In putting his craft on another tack ; 

And oft when the ground was white with snow, 

And the widow's fire was burning low, 

Or the poor man's larder of flour was bare, 

A gaunt old man and a rawboned mare 



UNCLE JACK. 59 

Sped silently forth at dead of night, 
Like spectres grim to the pale moonlight, 
With food or fuel, a generous freight, 
A low voice muttering, " Git along, Kate, — 
Heddup!" 

Eighty years to a day old Jack 

Followed along life's devious track, 

Scorning hardship and spurning rest. 

Toiling for those he loved the best. 

But there comes a time when the strongest yield, 

And he fell one morn in the harvest field ; 

They bore him home, and the old man lay 

In a hopeless stupor all that day, 

And died with the sunset's waning light, 

But just as his soul was poised for flight, 

His gray eyes beamed for a moment's space, 

And he looked in his good wife's tearful face. 



6o THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

" I must go," he said, "for it's gittin' late, 
An' the mare is waitin' down by the gate, 
So good-bye, dearie. Git along, Kate, — 
Heddup! " 

And so he went on his final trip, 
With these homely words on his ashen lip. 
And, strange to say, when they went to care 
Next morn for the rawboned, buckskin mare, 
The good beast lay by her manger dead ! 
" He's taken old Kate along," they said. 
And I think he had. Say, friend, do you 
Believe that horses have souls ? I do ; 
And more than that, I am satisfied 
They'll have their place on the other side. 
My views of the future are quite unique, 
So the parson told me one day last week; 
And he's right, no doubt; though just why 'tis 
That my guess is n't as good as his, 



UNCLE JACK. 61 

I 1 an't for the life of me make out. 
But the parson has n't the slightest doubt 
That heaven's a place where the chosen few- 
Will stand around with nothing to do 
But wear good clothes, and sing and pray 
In a stately, orthodox kind of way 
Through all eternity. That might go 
For a couple of billion years or so, 
But after that, as it seems to me, 
The more unstable saints might be 
A little inclined to fret, and claim 
That the exercises were getting tame. 
Now I maintain that our home on high 
Is a comfortable place, where you and I, 
Plain, homespun fellows, with sober views, 
Unused to grandeur and cushioned pews, 
Will feel at ease. Some planet fraught 
With the blisses that earth might bring if naught 



62 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

Of folly and greed, disease and sin, 
Were ever permitted to enter in. 
And I feel assured, when I'm called up there. 
That a tiny maiden with flaxen hair, 
And brown eyes brimming with laughing light. 
Will meet me just as she did each night 
When she lived on earth ; and I'm sure I'll see 
My old friends, just as they used to be, 
With the look, and manner, and trick of speech 
That I've grown to consider a part of each. 
But Paradise, somehow, won't seem complete 
Till, jogging along down the gold-paved street 
Of the Holy City of Love and Light, 
Uncle Jack Hemingway rides into sight, 
With his homespun garb and his genial smile, 
Good-naturedly urging his mare the while 
To quicken her staid, deliberate gait, 
With the old familiar, "Git along, Kate, — 
Heddup ! " 



LIFE'S GAME. 63 



LIFE'S GAME. 

We strolled across the moonlit fields ; 

The air was laden with perfume, 
And all the earth seemed filled with mirth. 

Moonlight, and love, and apple bloom ; 
She raised her eyes of azure hue 
And all her soul was shining thro', 

For hearts were trumps. 

But ere the trees bore fruit there came 

A rival suitor to her door, 
With jewels rare to deck her hair, 

Of gold and silver muckle store. 
She slew the love her lips confessed, 
And wore his gems upon her breast — 

Diamonds were trumps. 



64 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

Maddened with grief, I rashly strove 
To drown my woes in ruddy wine ; 

My worldly pelf, my hopes, myself, 
I sacrificed at Bacchus' shrine. 

My days were dregs, my nights were foam, 

And ev'ry club house was my home, 

For clubs were trumps. 

Old Time and I sit vis-a-vis, 

Outside the winter's wind doth moan ; 
No friend is near to aid or cheer, 

And I must play my hand alone. 
The cards are dealt, the trump is turned, 
Grim gamester, thou the stake hast earned, 
For spades are trumps. 



THE OLD AND TNI: NEW. 65 



THE OLD AND THE NEW. 

The clock strikes twelve ; comrades, arise, 

Fill up each glass and drink with me, 
E'en while I speak the Old Year dies, — 

Here's to his sacred memory. 
He brought us cares, he brought gray hairs, 

Smiles, tears, and joy, and sorrow ; 
But drifting snow shall ebb and Mow 

Across his grave to-morrow ; 
And, as we bring our cups in line, 
Our teardrops mingle with the wine. 



66 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

Fill up your glasses once again. 

Here's to the New Year — oh ! may he 
Be brightest in the radiant train 

Of golden years that are to be ; 
May Justice reign, and Freedom gain 

Some genius-crowned defender; 
May Art advance, and Truth's keen lance 

Strike clown the vain pretender; 
May Wisdom's sun diffuse its light, 
And bigots hide like birds of night. 



ENCOURAGEMENT. 67 



ENCOURAGEMENT. 

The sun was kissing the sea good night, 
As down on the beach we strayed ; 

Each wave at the parting caress of light 
Blushed deep, like a bashful maid. 

As she stood in her girlhood's beauty rare 
Looking out o'er the ocean grand, 

While the sea breeze played with her golden hair, 
I tremblingly caught her hand. 

If thou wert my own. O peerless maid, 
Thy smiles would shed," quoth I ; 

Then paused, of her anger half afraid. 
She blushed and heaved a sigh. 



68 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

" On the dreary path of my life," said I. 
" Thy smiles fair one would shed," — 
Again I paused, and again with a sigh, 
She blushed and hung her head. 

" Thy smiles would shed " — and my heart sank low 

With a terror undefined ; 
" Oh, pshaw ! " laughed she, " let the wood shed go, 

And say what is on your mind." 



PENS// 69 



PENSEE. 



They say the shades of those who pass 

Death's mystic river o'er 
Anon return to scenes and friends, 

Beloved of them of yore. 

They tell of wondrous secrets learned 
From those whose souls abide 

In that dim, distant land that lies 
Beyond the Stygian tide. 

1 listen, unbelieving still ; 

For were thy spirit free 
To leave Death's realm, I know that thou 

Wouldst sometimes come to me; 



7° THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

And hold some friendly token up 
To glad my yearning sight, 

Or clasp the hand I sadly stretch 
Into the empty night. 



THE TRUANT. 7 1 



THE TRUANT. 

I tarried in dreamland this morning, and lo! 

I saw on a cloud that hung over the west 
Some school children romping, with faces aglow, 

On their wind-drifted campus with juvenile zest. 

Their laughter rang out and was borne to my ear, 
As they ran with light step o'er the vaporous plain, 

And the sound of their voices, so bell-like and clear, 
Brought me back to the clays of my childhood again. 

But I started and gasped, and cried out in surprise. 

When the bright-tinted picture swung nearer to view, 
And I saw, through the tears that welled up to my eyes. 

The mates of my youth in that rollicking crew. 



72 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

There was Tom, my old seatmate, his face brimming o'er 
With the mischief that lurked in his brown curly head, 
•And good Godfrey Hilliard, and bad Bobby Moore, 
And Jerry, and Byron, and brave-hearted Fred. 

There was little Nell Drew and her big brother Ben, 
Who died like a hero in Custer's last fight ; 

And sweet Nettie Chase, looking rosy as when 
We found a red ear at the husking that night. 

And now came the teacher, with time-frosted hair, 
And the old, kindly gleam in his sober, gray eyes ; 

And the loud, tinkling summons rang out on the air, 
And the group disappeared thro' a rift in the skies. 

'Tis the breakfast bell ringing — I wake with a sigh, 
To wonder what lessons of infinite worth 

My schoolmates are learning, up there in the sky, 
While I'm "playing hookey" down here on the earth. 



A MORNING SHOWER. 73 



A MORNING SHOWER. 

The ruthful skies at last have leave to bless 

A parching world with gracious bounteousness, 

And rain-clouds, drifting o'er the mountain's crown, 

Unstinting pour their benefaction down ; 

The thirsty earth drinks in the welcome flood, 

And odors sweet arise from field and wood ; 

On hill and mead a livelier hue is seen, 

The dusty roadside dons a brighter green, 

And ev'ry blade upon the sterile heath 

Its weight of jeweled drops is bowed beneath. 

And now the clouds, their work of mercy done, 

Roll slowly back before the rising sun, 

That warms with quick'ning ray the grateful sod, 

While radiant Nature smiles her thanks to God. 



74 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 



LLORENTA. 

Thou wert a blossom beautiful and sweet, 

That bloomed a space to glad our worldly sight ; 

But envious angels thought it was not meet 

That earth should wear a tiower so pure and bright, 

And bore thee hence on noiseless wing and fleet, 
To deck the bosom of the Infinite. 



LIFE. 75 



LIFE. 

Dining and sleeping, 
Laughing and weeping. 

Sighing for some new toy : 
Loving and hating, 
Wooing and mating, 

Chasing the phantom, Joy. 

Losing and winning, 
Praying and sinning, 

Seeking a higher life ; 
Hope and repining, 
Shadow and shining, 

Care, and worry, and strife. 



7f» THE PRAYER CUKE IN THE PINES. 

Hoarding and wasting", 

Loitering, hasting, 
Missing the golden mark ; 

Praising and flouting, 

Trusting and doubting — 
Taking a leap in the dark. 



A WILLING VICTIM. 77 



A WILLING VICTIM. 

" Delusion, mockery, and snare," so spake 
Of beauty some dyspeptic sage or bard. 

If this be truth, I pray the Fates will make 
The snare so strong that, try however hard, 

'Twill mock my weak essays its mesh to break, 
Then set Delusion o'er each sense to guard. 

Thus free my choice in Beauty's arms to lie, 

Snared, mocked, deluded, till the hour I die. 



78 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 



VALE.* 

I had not thought the day we last did meet, 
Those friendly hands that in my own I pressed 

Would now be crossed, their ev'ry task complete. 
In dumb submission o'er a pulseless breast. 

I call to mind a pleasant summer's day, 
When thou and I, by aimless fancy led, 

Strayed o'er the verdant fields, and found our way 
Into the sad and silent city of the dead. 

There lay a friend who slept, as thou dost now, 
In earth's embrace, and, moved by mem'ries fond, 

We paused beside his grave, and questioned how 
He fared in that dim, unknown realm beyond. 



* Written upon hearing of the death of the author's friend and 
schoolmate, Fred L. Rowe. 



VALE. 79 

Thy sun of life, long ere it reached its noon, 
Dropped like a meteor to the darkened west ; 

And hast thou read the mystic page so soon ? 
Or — hast thou only found calm, dreamless rest? 

Sweet be thy sleep, — if endless sleep be all ; 

Joyous thy waking, if indeed there be 
Life, love, and hope beyond the inky wall 

Of cloud that veils death's darksome mystery. 

To us who mourn thee, there are left behind 

Two treasures thou hast won 'midst pain and strife : 

A memory sweet, a sermon to thy kind 
Writ on the pages of thy blameless life. 

And now farewell : yet ere I turn away 

To busy scenes, with worldly throngs to blend, 

This humble tribute on thy grave I'd lay. 

Thou honest man, thou staunch and faithful friend. 



8o THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 



MY SECOND LOVE. 

My brierwood pipe is well alight, 
The fire upon my hearth is bright ; 
Ensconced within my easy chair, 
I watch the forms that float in air, 
Amid the filmy clouds of white. 

What tho' her vision haunt my sight ? 

No power has she my peace to blight, 

Or taint my fragrant kiss, ma chere, 

My brierwood pipe. 



MY SECOND LOVE. 

For once I wooed this witching sprite, — 
With eyes that shamed the stars at night, 
And cheeks abloom and golden hair, — 
Only to find her false as fair; 
So I wed thee, my heart's delight, 

My brierwood pipe. 



82 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 



WHEN THE LEAVES TURN RED. 

The year has rolled around again, October's artist hand 
Once more has dyed the forest leaves and glorified the 
land, 
And once again alone I stray within this wooded 

shade. 
Where in the days of long ago, a happy child, I played ; 
The same old trees, the same old paths, the same small, 

noisy stream, — 
I throw myself upon the ground and idly sit and dream, 



WHEN THE LEAVES TURN RED. 83 

A sound of childish revelry comes riding on the breeze. 

A score of jolly phantoms flit among the ancient trees, 

Andlo! I see my old-time mates, their faces wreathed 

in smiles. 
As when we all together trooped adown these forest 
aisles, 
While at our noisy roistering the timid partridge fled, 
And startled squirrels chattered in the branches over- 
head. 



Then we made the stately chestnut rain its wealth upon 

our heads. 
And searched for shining pebbles in the shallow brook- 
let beds; 
We crowned our girlish favorites with garlands made 

of leaves. 
And frolicked till the god of day had gathered in his 
sheaves. 



84 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

Each heart o'erflowed with happiness, and ev'ry flaxen 

head 
Was filled with mirth and mischief when the leaves 

turned red. 

O, comrades of those golden days, our erstwhile happy 

band 
Is broken, scattered far and wide by Fate's relentless 

hand ; 
And some of you wear priestly robes, some bear a 

warrior's scars, 
And some have gone beyond the seas, and some 

beyond the stars; 
But once a year you gather here, the living and the 

dead, 
And I greet you all in spirit when the leaves turn red. 



t/OT QUITE so BAD. 



NOT QUITE SO BAD. 

A good old lady, grimly Orthodox 

From her cap's border to her gaiter's sole, 
Sat one day by her fireside darning socks, 

Intently listening to the scanty dole 
Of news the village doctor brought ; and when 

He said the Universalists had bought 
A lot in town, and divers wealthy men 

Had pledged the means to build a church, she 
caught 
Her breath in horror, and then, finding speech, 
Denounced them as most vicious and depraved, — 
" Good Lord ! " gasped she, " why, they're the folks 
that teach 
That all mankind will in the end be saved!" 



86 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

" Yes," said the doctor, with a twinkling eye ; 
" But these, I hear, somewhat unlike the rest, 
Hold that the unredeemed must roast and fry 

In sulphurous flames, by pain and woe oppressed, 
Ten thousand billion years for every sin 

That they commit while on this mundane sphere. 
Ere they may hope a pardon full to win, 

And mingle with the saints, like us, my dear. 
That gives them quite a while to burn, you see, 
And make Gehenna ring with wailings sad." 
The good dame looked relieved. "Ah! well," 

quoth she, 
" If that's their doctrine, 'tis n't quite so bad." 



TlfK FIRE M'RXS LOW. 87 



THE FIRE BURNS LOW. 

The tire burns low ; upon the grate 
The dying rlame, with deathless hate, 
A hundred shafts of quiv'ring light 
Sends forth to stab its victor, Night, 
The while I sit and meditate. 

A myriad spectres congregate 
Around my hearth-stone desolate, 
And silent pass before my sight. 

The fire burns low. 



THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

The long-expected guest is late, 
With folded hands I sit and wait ; 

My heart grows chill ; time's tedious flight 
The dismal deathwatch tells, and white. 
Weird, shadowy hands gesticulate, — 

The fire burns low. 



LOVE'S VICTORY. 89 



LOVE'S VICTORY. 

I call thy name ; a rustle light, 
As of a swallow in his flight, 
Breaks on my ear, and now and then 
A breathless whisper comes, and when 
My eyes essay to pierce the gloom 
A shadowy presence fills the room. 
Yet not by what 1 see and hear 
Am I convinced that thou art near, 
But by that sense of peace and rest 
That gently calms my stormy breast, 
That tranquil joy to me unknown 
Till thy life's pathway met my own. 



go THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

And now upon my brow I feel 
Thy fond caress. My senses reel, 
My pulses thrill ; that touch as light 
As summer winds awakes to-night 
The joys that into being sprung 
When Hope was new and Love was young. 
Fond mem'ries span the gulf of years ; 
The fires long quenched by bitter tears 
Burst forth anew ; mine, mine in truth. 
The secret of eternal youth ; 
For lo ! I hear a voice which saith, 
" A love like ours may baffle death." 



ENDLESS PUNISHMENT. 91 



ENDLESS PUNISHMENT. 

In the hush of the night the young wife fought 
With her darksome woe and her mad'ning fears 

Alone with her dead and one terrible thought. 
That chilled her bosom and froze her tears. 

One ray of hope and I well could brook 
The pangs of parting, my dreary lot, — 

But the words, O God, in Thy Holy Book — 
The doom of the soul that believeth not! " 

She hid her face in the breast of the dead 
To shut out the vision, but all in vain. 

Of that gentle spirit by demons led 
To its seething prison of endless pain. 



92 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

They had shared each joy in the by-past years, 
Together had traversed the vale of woe ; 

What were Heaven to her, if his bitter tears. 
Unceasing, forever and aye must flow ? 

Would her pride of a crown o'ershadow her love ? 

Could she drown with the notes of her harp his 
plaint ? 
Must she change to a fiend in the world above 

To wear the shining robe of a saint ? 

Thus musing, she lay on the marble breast ; 

Thus musing, chose freely to share his fate ; 
To her true, warm heart the steel she pressed, 

And her spirit hastened to join its mate. 

You say 'twas the act of her frenzied mood ; 

That reason was shrouded in sorrow's pall. 
Not so — she was true to her womanhood ; 

She believed and she loved, and that was all. 



77/E SMOKER'S FAREWELL. 93 



THE SMOKER'S FAREWELL. 

Good-bye, old pipe — a long farewell ; 

Tis hard from friends to sever ; 
But memories of thee shall dwell 

Within my bosom ever. 

Thy wreaths of white enshrouding me, 
The air with perfume filling, 

A magic cure-all seemed to be, 
Each throb of anguish stilling. 

A dreamy languor, passing sweet, 
Came o'er my senses stealing, 

For ev'ry bruise a balm complete, 
For ev'ry hurt a healing. 



94 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

So I aver with all my heart. 

Small recking who may scout thee, 
That care is cheated where thou art. 

Joy, incomplete without thee. 

Yet we must part" — ah, doom of woe ! 

That thou and I must sever ; 
These longing lips again may know 

Thy fragrant kiss — ah, never. 

I would not give thee up at first. 

Consigning to perdition 
The man that breathed the thought, that curst, 

Tyrannical physician. 

But later, with a clearer view 

I've scanned the situation ; 
'Tis plain that if I died through you, 

'Twould spoil your reputation. 



THE SMOKER'S FAREWELL, 95 

And so, old friend, with many a sigh, 

In tribulation dire. 
I bid thee now a last good-bye, 

My much loved bowl of brier. 



96 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 



ON WINNISQUAM. 

On Winnisquam my light canoe 
Drifts idly half the June day through, 
The while I look with half-shut eyes 
To where the azure of the skies 
Blends with the mountain's deeper hue ; 

Or gazing dreamily into 
The waters, pure and clear as dew, 
I watch the ripples fall and rise 

On Winnisquam. 



ON WINNISQUAM. 97 

Green are the shores and fair to view, 
Content and peace the air imbue ; 

A low-hung cloud of comfort lies 

Upon the waves, and worry dies, 
And carking care may not pursue 

On Winnisquam. 



98 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 



FALSE HOPES. 

Let me see. — 'tis exactly three weeks to a day 

Since my latest effusion was sent on its way, 

Yet never a word does the editor write 

In response to my letter, — it angers me quite. 

What the trouble can be I can't really make out ; 

But 'tis very annoying, this living in doubt 

In regard to the fate of my verses. Before 

He has been most remarkably prompt; nevermore 

Than four or five days, or a week at the most. 

Have elapsed ere they made the return trip by post. 

With a neat printed missive, wherein was expressed 

The anguish that flamed in the editor's breast. 



FALSE HOPES. 99 

When it dawned on his mind that my essays at rhyme 

Would be ''unavailable" just at that time. 

But softly. I have it ! — whate'er they decline 

They promptly return, so this poem of mine 

Is accepted. By Jove ! what a consummate dunce 

I was that the thought did n't strike me at once. 

"Pis the goal I've been seeking for many months past. 

And, in spite of my failures, I've "got there" at last. 

The future looks brighter, — chum, have a cigar, — 

Do they pay on acceptance. I wonder ? — ah, ha ! 

Here's the letter I've longed for: no doubt there's a 

check. 
Well, my best suit is shiny, my topcoat's a wreck. 
And 'tis getting high time that some succor should 

come ; 
'Twill be inightv convenient, whatever the sum. 
Pass the paper knife, chum, by your side on the rack. 

Great Caesar ! the infernal thing has come back ! 



THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 



SENCE HULDY JUMPED HER JOB. 

The grass is wavin' on the hills, the bobolink is here, 
An' yet, somehow, his singin' don't sound the same 

this year ; 
The roses out beyend the house a-noddin' in the breeze, 
Don't look so neat nor smell so sweet, — I b'lieve the 

very bees 
Hum out of tune to spite me, an' the guinys yell all day, 
An' the ducks an' geese keep squawkin' in a aggervatin' 

way. 
The airth looks gray an' lonesome-like, the sky a dirty 

black, 
An' all the 'tarnal universe seems sorter out o' whack; 
An' I set here with droopin' head an' rassle with a sob 
To see the change that's come about sence Huldy 

jumped her job. 



SENCR HULDY JUMPED HER JOB. 1O1 

The hired man that went, last year, a-singin' to his work 
Is slouchin' 'round the place as grim an' silent as a 

Turk : 
The folks about the house that once was chipper all 

the while 
Have dis-remembered, long ago, the way to crack a 

smile ; 
The childun, when they come from school, don't romp 

about an' shriek, 
But walk as slow an' act as tho' 'twas Sunday all the 

week ; 
The little chickens in the yard chirp in a lonesome way, 
The tabby cat is lank an' thin, an' mews the live-long 

day, 
The cosset lamb forgits to play, an' my Scotch collie, 

Rob, 
Looks meachin' as a common cur sence Huldy jumped 

her job. 



102 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

Oh ! how I mourn the good ol' times — the days that 

now has fled, 
When I could get upholstered with good, wholesome 

Graham bread, 
An' meat that was n't overdone nor soaked clean thro' 

with grease, 
An' good, hot gems that would n't weigh a pound or 

more apiece. 
Alas I I ne'er shall see agin the like of Huldy Brown ; 
1 cuss the day I ever tried to cut her wages clown ; 
Too late I came to know her worth — my race is nearly 

run, 
For bass-wood pies an' dumb-bell rolls their perfect 

work has done ; 
Next year the daisies o'er my head will gayly bend an' 

bob, 
Dyspepsy's claimed me for her own sence Huldy 

jumped her job. 



A STOLEN A'/SS. 



THE STOLEN KISS. 

The deed is done — ah! cruel one. 

In abject fear of meeting 
The lurid lightning of her glance, 
All mute I stand and look askance, 

My timid heart scarce beating. 

Oh, dread suspense ! If mine offence 

Were one to be forgiven, 
I'd sue for pardon at her feet, 
And do what penance she deemed meet, 

As 'twere decreed of Heaven. 



104 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 

I lift my eyes to hers ; surprise 
And indignation glow there ; 
Her red lips move, her voice rings clear, 
These awful words salute my ear : 
" I think you're horrid — so there ! " 



.1/}' AUTOGRAPH. 105 



MY AUTOGRAPH. 

My autograph she begged the night 
When first her beauty filled my sight ; 
" Not just your name, you know," quoth she 
" But something nice besides, maybe 
A poem or a maxim trite." 

I yielded to the witching light 
Of her soft eyes, and did indite, 
Entwined with flowers of poesy, 

My autograph. 



io6 THE PRAYER CURE IA T THE PINES. 

She perches on my knee to-night, 
And in her eyes, so clear and bright, 

The old light dwells — ah, woe is me ! 

My check-book in her hand I see, 
And once again she begs me write 

My autograph. 



TWO PICTURES 107 



TWO PICTURES. 

A wee, wee maid in the tangled grass, 
And her lap is filled with flowers, 
And her voice rings out in a gleeful shout, 
As she tosses the clover heads about, 
And they fall in bloomy showers. 

A wee, wee maid in a darkened room, 

And her hands are filled with flowers ; 

We call in her ears, but she never hears, 

Nor catches the diamond gleam of tears 

\s they fall in crystal showers. 



io8 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. 



BETH. 

She went away, and home was strangely still ; 
The April sky grew yet more dull and gray ; 
The birds ne'er sang such cheerless measures till 

She went away. 

A heavy mist upon the lowland lay, 

And gruesome shadows on the verdant hill, 
And night time was less dismal than the day. 

Into my dreary life she came to fill 

The void my aching heart had known for aye, 
And ev'ry hour was gemmed with joy until 

She went away. 



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